A Story
by Author Unknown1
Summary: A Kurt-Centric story (though not in the first chapter) about transcending labels. (mentions homosexuality, anyone uncomfortable with this is just silly)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing of X-Men: Evolution save for the characters that I have created of my own accord. I'm making no money off of this money as this story probably wouldn't recieve much in the way of cash. I promise I'll finish this story as I have started many stories here with the purpose of finishing them but failing in the process (this isn't a disclaimer...just a motivation for myself).   
  
Extended Summary: There are some mutants who are tired of running. There are some humans who are tired of propoganda and living in fear of something so silly as a threat from their own species' evolution. This is not about mutant against human or mutant against mutant but rather this is a story about fighting for the right to be yourself despite the label that people have given you. This will be Kurt Centric since I find him the most interesting of characters.   
  
p.s. This is in third person but mainly focuses on a girl. I say this because I'm very certain that this story could be construed to be a Mary-Sue. So if you have any hatred of Mary-Sue type stories then you have no obligation to read this story. Please read at least the first paragraph before you totally discount it, though. Thank you.  
  
Prologue  
  
The room smelled of vanilla incense. It wasn't the expensive kind of incense either. It was the incense sticks that you got at the dollar store in a large box marked "vanilla" on the side in fading ink that had resided in the store for close to a year. It was a generic kind of smell, but somehow comforting. It made one think of the taste of ice cream and of youth and of everything else that was pure.   
  
She was a walking oxymoron. She was a vegetarian with leather sandals. She was a spiritual person who had a collage of torn Jehovah's Witnesses' brochures in her room taped to her wall. She was a martyr who refused to die. She snickered for no reason as she propped her naked feet on the decoupage coffee table.   
  
Among the random pictures hurriedly glossed on the wooden piece of furniture (a savior from a worse fate on the side of a suburban road, rejected for scratches that had been inflicted on its surface) were several clippings about a strange new kind of human that had been discovered. Evolution, they called it. Atrocity, they called it. Mutancey, they called it. Glossy pictures of the DNA ladder mingled with seemingly less important pictures of celebrities. Some clippings had been so briskly dispatched and attached that sections were folded over themselves in a nonchalant gesture of manic behavior.   
  
She took a spoon to her Ramen Noodles. What it needed was a spork. She would have to remember to steal some on her next trip to Taco Bell. She purposely ignored the trace amounts of chicken broth that she was eating and told her brain that it didn't matter. She was still a vegetarian. She still loved animals. She still burned incense.  
  
She looked up at the Coca-Cola battery operated clock on her wall. They were late. But, then again, were they ever really on time? She pondered the existence of time for a bit before getting tired of noodles that tasted like fake seafood and the noodles landed with an odd plopping sound in her trashcan. She looked around at her small apartment, various pictures covering exposed electrical outlets. Some of the pictures were of her own creation, twisted with colors only seen in dreams. Others were pictures of a forgotten past, her mother, her father, and her brother. They hung in remembrance of a life long left behind.  
  
She sighed in slight nostalgia that was quickly covered up by a feeling that she really shouldn't have thrown away the remainder of the Ramen Noodles. Trace amounts of chicken broth or not, it still harbored a fraction of the actual nutrition that she needed. She shrugged at her inner dialog and heard a knock on her door.   
  
The door opened to five wide-eyed figures. They stood poised together like in those Gap commercials that try to depict teenagers in a normal light but only made them look like posed manikins with their designer clothing and tight fitting pre-faded jeans. It was a tradition to pose like this when she opened the door. She smiled at the sight of her friends; fresh from school their faces smirking at a joke played a million times.   
  
Snorting (because she snorted often despite name calling that ensued afterwards) she shoved the unruly bunch in like a mother hen collecting her chicks. The teens plopped down in their various places that they always sat in. They never deviated from this tradition.   
  
A slightly heavy girl named Sandra, whose red hair only made her look all the ruddier, always plopped in the old dilapidated armchair. She would scoot around until she was nicely settled and look around mischievously, her slightly pudgy face looking as if she had done something wrong. Her eyes would always stop at Arthur who insisted on sitting on the floor at Sandra's feet.   
  
Arthur was a skinny boy whose hair looked as if to be a bad toupee. Still, there was something charming about him. Perhaps it was his freckled face or his large eyes but he was forever having to show people his ID to get into rated R movies and into clubs. But it was not just his looks that lent himself to youth; it was the way that he looked at the world. Everything was a new experience and everyone was truly good if you looked deep enough no matter how many times that his friends tried to persuade him differently.   
  
Finn was not quite so optimistic. He had no reason to be. The closest thing that this boy ever got to a happy expression was a tug at the side of his thin lips. He was tall, a lanky fellow though more muscular than he looked. He wore scars on the outside, by his left eye and under his nose, that were a mystery to the rest. He sat, his back straight, on his customary couch seat with his boy of the week attached to his left side. He was not one for keeping commitment. Perhaps it was his dry sense of humor or his bad timing but there seemed to be a never-ending supply of his boy selection none the less.   
  
Beside the softly whispering couple of Finn and said boy sat a small girl, even smaller than the hostess of this event. Her straight blond hair fell over her face shifting as her eyes looked from different conversations. Her name was Cybil. When she talked she spoke of great things and everyone listened. She did not speak much, which made the event even more the spectacular. She never said anything that she had not thought out in great detail, a fact which totally escaped the others grip of understanding in their own rambling conversations.   
  
Upon a great beanbag chair sat a marvelous girl. Her hair was splendidly shaven save for two strips that hung, bleached and colored, by the sides of her face. This was the Ramen wasting girl of the early on. She was the hostess, as she always was, and she took her job with extreme seriousness. Her name was India; a name that seemed to suit her for it was the name that she had given herself. She was a short girl with an awkward posture due to her forever attempts at minimizing her breast size. Her leather sandals did not don her feet at this moment but, rather, lay piled up by the door with the others' various foot wear.   
  
She smiled as random conversation flew by her ears like small flies in summer. She breathed in and turned on the television. The talking went to a hush in anticipation of what was to be played on the old wooden television with a slightly shaky picture. India sat down again on the beanbag chair and noticed that she had left the VCR remote on top of the television. She sighed and looked longingly behind her towards the meek girl with the straight blonde hair.   
  
"Cybil, I don't suppose you could..." she stopped and pooched out a bottom lip for effect.   
  
Cybil nodded sending her hair back and forth across her shoulders. Holding out a trembling hand she directed her fingers towards the remote. The remote hovered above the television a moment before vanishing in a flash and appearing in India's lap. Some would mistake Cybil's power for telekinesis but there was no telekinesis about it. She did not transport the object with her mind but, rather, was able to change the energy around the object. It was a complicated matter and thus left only to scientists with too much time on their hands and no lives of their own.   
  
Giggling with glee India's finger hovered above "play."   
  
"What are we watching tonight?" Arthur said putting his head to sit upon his knees. He cocked his head, his mop of hair flipping and his large bright eyes twinkling as they blinked questioningly.   
  
"Ruffles chips with ranch dressing," India said in code. There were a few groans from the "peanut gallery."  
  
"The Anniversary Party again?" Sandra said in a huff.   
  
"We haven't watched it in a month!" India protested, hitting "play." She was the hostess after all. She shoved out of the beanbag chair and hobbled into the kitchen for the traditional "The Anniversary Party" snack. They had named a snack food for every movie. It was more fun that way.   
  
She plopped down after flicking off the lights and lay a large bowl brimming with Ruffles' Chips next to a bottle of ranch dressing on the side. After the movie they would stay awake and talk of philosophies. After this they would dose off and Finn would sneak to a niche with his boy. In the morning they would go out for breakfast at Waffle House and talk of more philosophies and gossip that they had heard during the week. From there they would split ways and not see each other until the next Friday.   
  
Not all of them were evolved, or were atrocities, or were mutants or whatever label was put on. But all of them were happy and that little discrepancy didn't matter. Yes, things were perfect. Nothing could go wrong. But, then again, isn't that what all of the books say before something goes incredibly and totally awry? 


	2. Chapter 1: Not Enough Room for Title

Disclaimer: Despite my interest of the series I haven't been keeping up with the episodes because of the constant change in their time and the station of airing. I also am under the impression that the series has been cancelled (I shall mull about this later). But they are playing in syndication somewhere sometime. Due to my lack of attention I might get some stuff wrong. For all of those nitpickers out there that see my story as way way off from what the series left off as: neener neener neener, this is my story, ha!  
  
Chapter Two: Dead Frogs, Stubbed toes and an Invite  
  
It was ironic, in all that had happened to him in the past year, of all of the foes he had fought and all of the battles he had been a part of coming back to school seemed like such a daunting task. He snickered at his own inadequacy. When had he ever been inadequate? Always. But when had he ever shown his inadequacy? Ach, never! Still, as he held his schedule in his hologram hands, it seemed daunting.   
  
He was a junior now. But the name meant nothing to him. It only meant yet another year of pretending to be "normal" as defined by everyone around him. It meant another year of seeing all of those who he held dear to him be glared at by the others while he was safe behind his holographic form. He sighed.  
  
"Ach!" he exclaimed at the sudden push he received from behind. A boy with a shaved head brought him out of his own thoughts. No, he corrected his perception, a girl with a shaved head.   
  
The girl turned apologetically towards him.   
  
"I'm so sorry. I'm just a little...I'm sorry. I don't-actually maybe you could help me." She flustered about some more until she settled on his eyes with a pleading look.   
  
"Ja," he said, a little disoriented himself, "Are you new here?"  
  
"Kinda," she flustered again looked around at the crowded hallway and rubbed the back of her shaved hair self-consciously, "I sort of dropped out. I'm going for it again," she said with faked enthusiasm. "I was actually wondering if you could direct me towards room..." she looked down at her own schedule which was in less than perfect shape, folded and refolded until exhaustion. "Ugh, uh...201?"  
  
Slightly amused at her ability to get agitated by a simple question he smirked at her, "Ja...that's right down zere..." his two fingered point lead her to the end of the hall, "Right beside zhe water fountain."   
  
"Thanks," she said sincerely tucking a red dyed bit of hair around her ear. In truth it was three colors. The roots of her natural color, which was very dark, the bleached part and the half red dye job sat like a rainbow down the string of hair. It was quite a feat to pull off in a world of appearances such as high school. "I'm India," she held out a hand, which Kurt hesitated at.   
  
"Kurt," he said in nervous courteousness his own hand inches away from hers.   
  
"India!" screamed a slightly overweight red headed girl down the hall. Kurt breathed as India's hand jerked away from his to wave at her friend.   
  
"Sorry," she said, "I'll talk to you later, Kurt!" To Kurt's surprise she lay a hand on his arm causing him to gasp. Did she feel the deception underneath his hologram? She turned around confused as her hand lingered. The mutant panicked.   
  
"India!" yelled the girl down the hall that Kurt was slowly becoming extremely thankful of. "Hurry up, we're going to be late. We have first period together remember?"  
  
"Right," she said back, "I'll...uh...talk to you later, Kurt." She wasn't even aware that she had already said that. "It was nice to meet you," she whispered still confused. Finally she removed her hand and rushed down the hall.   
  
Kurt breathed out until his lungs were fully deflated. He put his palm up to his forehead. How the heck was he going to explain this? What would happen if he saw her again? His brain worked full power as he made his way to his first class.   
  
'I have a skin condition...no. It's a magic trick, I use it for all of the new comers...wow that was really stupid. This is all just a dream...just a dream. Quick! Look over there, Elvis!' the imagined excuses just kept getting worse. Perhaps if he hadn't been worrying so much he wouldn't have stubbed his toe, which caused the entire class to turn their heads.   
  
"Ach!...Who put that chair there?" he said laughing nervously, "Those zings just pop out of nowhere don't zhey?" He sunk down into his seat with a whimper, toe throbbing.   
  
*  
  
The smell of formaldehyde reached up her nostrils. It reeked from every orifice of the biology room. The walls were stained yellow as if to reflect the disgust that she felt. She looked down for the second time in disbelief. It was the first day of school for pete sakes. Why in the hell did she have the equivalent to road kill on the small black lab table in front of her?   
  
She looked up at the black on white clock that slowly ticked on the wall in the front of the classroom. Three thirty was so painfully close and she hadn't touched her frog once. She hoped that if she just kept looking at the clock then it wouldn't matter, but when has anyone ever been so lucky?  
  
"Is there a problem Ms. Scarbough?" The name made India cringe when said by her skinny pale teacher with dry red hair.   
  
India did not look up from her intense study of the clock face, "I'm a vegetarian."  
  
She could hear the tiny bony body beside her rattle with a strong breath. "Ms. Scarbough, I realize that this is your second time around," it was if the words gave the teacher a sour taste in her mouth, "so I am going to say this only once. If you do not join in the exploration of your frog with the rest of the class..."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry," India finally looked across to her counterpart. The bell rang suddenly, "But I've got to go now..." she said hurriedly, "I can make this up?"  
  
There was another rattling breath, "Only this once."  
  
She smiled as she raced out of the door into the fresher air of the hallway. In truth the high school hallway was not much better where smells were concerned. Overbearing cologne from insecure guys mixed with horrid body spray scents like cotton candy and bubble gum reeked from the students that passed her. B.O. was sprinkled in by those who had not yet discovered the joys of deodorant. Somehow the smell of lunch from the cafeteria had wafted down the hallway creating a kaleidoscope of smells that would drive a dog to insanity.   
  
India rushed through the crowd of awkward teenagers disappointed, for a moment, that many were taller than she even though she was older. Spying red hair she ran for it through groups of jock arms and a forest of cheerleader legs. She grabbed the soft arm and brought Sandra out of the chaos for a moment.   
  
"India," she cried, her cheeks redder due to the gathered heat from bodies trying to escape from the confines of the small brick school. "How did you like high school?"  
  
"It never changes, Sandy. I don't think it ever will." It was true. She had gotten the same strange looks before she dropped out because of her appearance. She was treated with the same caution of a teenager that must be high all of the time. There must have been some secret rule that if a student's hair is a certain color then that student must be some sort of delinquent. It also didn't help matters much that she was known as "the drop out" by all of her teachers and many students.  
  
"I think it's great that you're coming back though," Sandra said bouncing with glee. The crowd in the hallways had let out a bit. The only ones that were left now were scraggly freshmen rushing to buses that were probably long gone. India watched as the nervous lower-classmen rushed through the hallways with their oversized backpacks causing them to bend over like little turtles.   
  
"You know what tomorrow is!" Sandra interrupted India's thoughts. She smiled; she had completely forgotten that tomorrow was Friday.   
  
*  
  
There she was, talking to her red haired friend. Perhaps if he just slinked by she would not notice him there. Could he avoid her the rest of the year? Sure he could.   
  
"Hey! Kurt!" He sighed at her voice. Next time he had to remember that if he was going to fall asleep in math then he should tell someone to wake him up before the bell rung.   
  
He listened to the pairs of footsteps echoing among the now empty halls of the school. He could teleport. This was always his first instinct. He had learned to ignore it but the idea was always tempting.   
  
Slightly out of breath from the jog India beamed at the young boy, "I was wondering if you would want to come to my apartment tomorrow."  
  
Oddly enough India's friends face mirrored Kurt's in shock.   
  
"Oh, this is Sandra..." India said ignoring the looks that she was getting. "So can you come?"   
  
It was weird how in times of stress one's senses became better. For instance, Kurt didn't smell the formaldehyde on India until this moment. Somehow he couldn't imagine the girl cutting up dead animals. "Actually, I really shouldn't. I mean...I could...but-"  
  
"It's okay," India waved it off but there was some regret that flickered in her dark eyes that made Kurt a bit guilty. Not for the first time Kurt started to panic. "But think about it?"  
  
"Sure."   
  
They stood for a moment before India walked away, Sandra trailing behind her. "It was nice to meet you, Kurt," Sandra called.   
  
"Nice to meet you too," Kurt said turning around and sighing only to gasp at the sight of a small girl clad in pink behind him.  
  
"Kitty!" he exclaimed, "You surprised me."  
  
"Like, what was that all about?" She held her books up to her chest. If one were to look closely there was a hint of jealousy mixed in a seemingly innocent question. Kurt was too busy with his own thoughts to notice.   
  
"Chicks dig the fuzzy dude." The anthem of Kurt seemed a little trepidated.   
  
"Riight," Kitty jested.   
  
"Oh come on," Kurt insisted, his mood lightening a bit. "You know you can't resist my charm and good looks!" He smiled cheesily as he rested an arm around the young girls neck.   
  
"As much as I can resist a slug!" she exclaimed  
  
"You love me, admit it," he continued bantering as she walked out the door.   
  
"As if," she said, though, unlike the former years, Kurt knew that this was all in jest. It was a game they played, a dance of star-crossed lover and unwilling participant. The banter continued into the distance toward the school's broken parking lot.   
  
***  
  
Author's Note: Granted, this wasn't the best chapter I've ever created. 


	3. Chapter 2: Friday

Author's note: I'm painfully aware of the butcher job I did on Kurt's characterization. For some reason I just can't get it right. I'll try better in this next chapter, I promise. I'm also fully aware that this story has a very high risk of going absolutely nowhere (self-depreciate much?)   
  
Thank you, those who reviewed. I like my prologue but as for the first chapter I just can't seem to get the same kind of quality. I will try my darnedest not to center on just one character. I will also try my best to get Kurt a little more...erm...Kurtish.   
  
Chapter Two: Friday  
  
"There's something about him."   
  
Sandra studied her friend closely. India's eyebrows quivered ever so slightly with a thought that she was trying to latch onto.   
  
"You don't," Sandra started but then stopped. She put a pink finger up to her mouth and felt her face get red despite herself.   
  
"I don't what?" demanded her shaven friend as she dug a plastic fork into some sort of hard brown substance that was supposed to be a substitute for meat. A prong snapped off of the plastic utensil and flew across the table.  
  
Sandra smiled despite herself and then continued cautiously with her thought, gauging the reactions very carefully to her suspicions as they revealed themselves to her friend, "You don't...I mean, you're not attracted to him."  
  
There was a pause. A look of confusion swept across India's sharp features. Everything about the girl was sharp. Her eyebrows went into points; her nose ended abruptly, like it was done in a fast stroke of a paintbrush. Even her chin pointed a bit at the end. She scrunched up that sharp nose and stared at Sandra sternly, not with anger but with confusion.   
  
"Are you?" Sandra asked, her own eyebrows wavering in curiosity.   
  
"No," a truer statement had never come out of India's mouth. "I mean, he's not ugly, but as far as romantically goes, no. That's odd..."  
  
"Why?" her friend said between a mouthful of carrots. She gulped them down quickly as to not let the taste linger in her mouth.   
  
"Well, he's just so darn interesting. Just look at him," India motioned towards the table where Kurt sat, never a still moment as he talked to his friends. He almost bounced with every word. "He doesn't seem to care about anything and yet..."  
  
Sandra looked at her questioningly, giving up on the food for a moment.  
  
"And yet," India continued, "Something's inhibiting him. I can tell. He's always looking behind his shoulder..."  
  
"Why?" Sandra asked quietly, as if she were sharing a great mystery. She shifted a little in her seat.   
  
"I don't know," India admitted, "But I'm going to find out." Unknowingly she stuck a piece of the meat substitute in her mouth, "YECK!" she exclaimed spitting the meat out, it glistening with either her saliva or something of its own accord. Sandra snickered, putting her hand over her mouth, her face turning red again.   
  
*  
  
"So, like, she asked you to come to her apartment?" Kitty twirled a section of hair around her finger absently as she looked down at the menacing food on her tray. Was it just her imagination or had it moved?  
  
"Yeah," Kurt exclaimed shifting on the chair that he always felt uncomfortable in. If it wasn't his tail interfering with his seating arrangement it was his posture yelling to him that it wasn't natural for him to be sitting in such an odd position. He had learned to ignore the discomfort a long time ago but at times of confusion he was vulnerable to continuously shifting in order to get into some kind of comfort.   
  
"Do ya know why?" It was Rogue who asked the question. She rested a gloved hand under her chin causing a stark contrast between the black of her glove and the pale of her face.   
  
There was a silence as the usually talkative Kurt shrugged the question away shifting with discomfort again.  
  
"Uh oh," said Evan. It was actually rather rare that the four of them were eating together like this. Since Jean and Scott had left the school after graduating (taking college classes at the Institute due to being too uncomfortable to be in an actual University with their secrets exposed) the four had not been very social to many other people. Some had even lost friends due to their mutant exposure. Well, except Kurt who was simply labeled a "mutant lover" thanks to the protection given to him by the ever-present hologram.   
  
"Vhat?" Kurt asked. The other three looked at each other knowingly.  
  
"Somebody," said Rogue, "Is not tellin' his friends tha whole truth."  
  
"Vas?" Kurt said, defensive of being seen through so easily. Kurt sat with mouth open and, surprisingly, it wasn't opened for feeding purposes.   
  
"What's wrong, elf?" Rogue asked smirking, "Mysterious girl who wants you to come to her apartment gottya tongue?"   
  
"No," he said, voice rising. There was a silence again. Everyone looked at him expectantly, "She maybe, might have, sort of rubbed against me." There was another silence; it was more than a little awkward to have so many silences in a row.   
  
"She touched you? Where?" asked Kitty.  
  
"On my arm," Kurt said. The mutant felt the burn of all of his friends staring at him. He squirmed from a different kind of discomfort.   
  
"Do you think she...I mean..." Kitty stumbled over her words, hair twirling increasing as she spoke.   
  
"How could she not?" Kurt asked.   
  
"It was probably nothing," Evan said, pushing food around his plate. "I mean she probably didn't even know what she was feeling. You could always tell her you had a skin disease or something. It's not a big deal. I wouldn't worry about it."  
  
"Yeah, like, it's not like she knows or anything. I mean...wouldn't it be terrible if, say, like, the entire school found out you were a mutant? No friends, everyone stares at you..." Kitty's hair twirling sped to top speed as her anger rose. "I mean, like, it would be the worse day of your life right?" With this comment she walked away, leaving her tray and leaving Kurt to sop up the impact of her statement like corn bread to gravy.   
  
"Wow, Ah didn't know the girl had it in her," Rogue commented.   
  
"Ugh," Kurt said rubbing the nape of his neck. "Do you zhink I should go and talk to her?"   
  
"Naw," Rogue said, "She's just lettin' off some steam. She'll be fine."   
  
"You're not really considering going to this chick's apartment are you?" Evan looked at the boy as he shifted once more on the seat.   
  
"Oh yeah. Dat vould be a great idea. She felt my true form so I zhink that I'm just going to go down and stay at her apartment. I'm sure she won't notice zhat I'm fuzzy at all..."  
  
"Just a question..."  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to get offensive. I just..."  
  
"It's okay, Kurt. We all got our problems, ya know?" with this statement Evan left, not so abruptly as Kitty had, but with just as much conviction.   
  
"Ouch, two strikes and you're out. Not scorin' so high today are we?" Rogue said scooting over to Kurt in the absence of Kitty and Evan.   
  
"You zhink?" Kurt looked over at the pale girl beside him, "You're not going to leave too are you?"   
  
"Got to be loyal to family right?"   
  
Kurt smiled, "Yeah, sure."  
  
"Kurt!" The boy jumped up at the voice. He turned around, wide-eyed, to face two strings of multicolored hair framing firm eyes. She tried not to laugh, "Oops. Didn't mean to startle you."  
  
"It's no biggy," Kurt said laughing it off, though it was a nervous laugh bordering on manic.   
  
"I was just wondering if you'd maybe thought about tonight any more. It's just going to be a movie night at my apartment. A few friends...nothing special. I think you'd really like it."   
  
"Sounds interesting but..." All the time Rogue was watching the girl curiously. She pulled a piece of her pale hair behind her ear to get a better look. Why had she never seen this girl around school before?   
  
"I mean," India was very aware that she was starting to sound desperate. She had no idea why it was so important for him to come, but for some reason it was. Perhaps the formaldehyde had really gotten to her brain. "We're going to have great food there..."   
  
This gave Kurt a pause. He was always a sucker for food.  
  
"Um..." she began listing the food items on her fingers as she saw that the mention of food got his attention, "Popcorn, Toffee Ice-cream for the movie," beside her Sandra squealed in excitement knowing what movie was being described in code, "and my friend mailed me a big bag of these candies called Dumies...I think they're from Finland or something..."   
  
"Dumies?" India stared up at the tall German boy.  
  
"Yeah, you like 'em?" she fingered her lip.  
  
"Yeah...I do..."  
  
"Here," she grabbed Kurt's hand holding a pen in the other. Rogue almost choked on her milk. Kurt grabbed his hand away quickly holding it with the other. "Oh, I was just going to write my address down..."  
  
"I have a skin condition," Kurt said quickly. He scratched the back of his head nervously.  
  
"Oh," India paused, "Um...okay." She grabbed out a napkin from a nearby abandoned table and scrawled her address on it and handed it to Kurt. "I don't have a phone so...if you want to, you can just stop by. It's no big deal."  
  
"Okay," Kurt said taking the address gingerly making sure that their hands didn't brush.   
  
"Well, gotta go. I'm late for..." she picked her lip again and looked at Sandra, "What am I late for?"  
  
"German," the girl offered helpfully.  
  
"Right German. Auf Wiedersehen all!" And with this she left leaving a cloud of confusion across both Rogue's and Kurt's faces.  
  
"You're not...gonna go are you, elf?" Rogue asked standing up next to Kurt.   
  
"I don't know," Kurt said honestly.   
  
***  
  
You know that part of the story that you write and it's all just filler that helps the action get to the place that you want it to get to so that you can really start writing a great story after you've passed that point? Yeah.  
  
p.s. I haven't had the Internet for a few days so this came later than it was meant to come. I'm also very aware that I've still not got Kurt characterized right. Anyone is free to leave any suggestion that they want to. Please, I don't care if you're flaming because, honestly, flames really can help. Kinda smack me in the side of the head will ya? 


End file.
